the girl on the train
There's a girl on the train. She sits alone, typing on her computer. Her glasses slip a little too low on her nose and her hair rests in two mismatched braids-- one much bigger than the other.
Yet, she types.
Maybe you think she's cute. Your mind plays fantasies of dates with a random stranger as you inevitably hit boredom on the seven-hour train ride.
Your eyes follow her hands as they dance around the keyboard. Stroke by stroke, making her keys click.
The seat next to her is gapingly empty and, for a moment, you contemplate sitting next to her, starting out what could be comparable to the events of a rom-com.
But you don't.
She stays a girl on the train, open to the fantasies of your mind. A simple existence, avoiding the complexities of life.